


Sweater weather.

by CallmeDJ



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, Wasn't supposed to be shippy, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27505864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallmeDJ/pseuds/CallmeDJ
Summary: Mumbo had never thought about why Grian always wore long sleeves.(Mind the tags, my friends.)
Relationships: Mumbo Jumbo/Grian
Comments: 5
Kudos: 144





	Sweater weather.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this may or may not be a vent based on some shit I do.  
> Please, don't read this, I wrote it while sleep deprived.

Mumbo had never thought about why Grian always wore long sleeves.

It seemed that the small hermit was always wearing long sleeves, even in the middle of the desert, where even X rolled up his sleeves.

But he never really thought about it until one time he had to drop in for some supplies. 

He had run out of supplies for his industrial district, and decided to make his way over to the builder’s mansion to see if he had any. Normally, he would have gone to somebody else, however the item in question was TNT and Grian was the most likely to have some excess.

He got to the mansion and paused, admiring the work that must have gone into this. It truly was a work of art. Then he shook himself. He was here for resources, after all.

He walked into the basement, and saw Grian, sitting by himself in the middle of his villagers. He had his jumper off, revealing the white undershirt beneath.

Mumbo decided to sneak up on him. Slowly, he crept up on the small man.

As he got closer, he noticed something worrying. There were bandages strewn about, clean ones, yes, but also some bloody ones.

Mumbo would have brushed it off as just another injury, but a sharp movement from Grian, followed by a hiss of pain settled it in his mind.

Those weren’t normal cuts.

Mumbo decided to make his presence known, and coughed, loudly.

Grian whipped around, and Mumbo couldn’t help but let out a gasp.

In Grian’s hand was a pencil, the wooden part stained in blood. 

Scattering Grian’s biceps and upper forearms were scars, hundreds of them, and where there weren’t scars, there were cuts, still fresh and dripping blood.

Bandages still partially wrapped around part of his left bicep, dried blood evidently seeping through. 

The pencil clattered to the floor, as Grian’s eyes welled up with tears.

He was stammering something, a plea not to hate him, not to think he’s weak.

_ That  _ snapped Mumbo to his senses.

Without a second thought, he engulfed the blonde in a bear hug, and Grian fell into it, crying as though he was trying to squeeze out all the darkness that had entered his soul. 

Grian’s sobs gradually turned into sniffing, as he realized where he was. 

He looked up at Mumbo.

“So, does this mean you don’t hate me?”

Mumbo sighed.

“Grian, I could never hate you. I do have to ask though. Why a pencil?”

Grian shrugged.

“I suppose I thought that it wasn’t self harm if I was doing it with a pencil. Self harm is done with scissors and knives, not pencils.”

Mumbo held him tighter.

“Oh Grian. Are you ok with telling me why?”

Grian shook his head, as he burrowed further into Mumbo’s chest.

They stood like that for a while, before Mumbo noticed that Grian was close to falling asleep on his feet.

He guided them to the nearest bed, and was about to get one for himself, when he felt Grian tugging on his suit.

“Stay?”

Mumbo sighed fondly, then got into bed beside Grian.

The two of them fell asleep, blissfully unaware of their problems.

Tomorrow, perhaps, they would be forced to deal with them, but, for now, they both drifted off to sleep, content in each other’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry.
> 
> -DJ


End file.
